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Saturday, May 2, 2015

Day 19: No More Fun the Second Time

I should have asked my grandmother to crew for us. She's in her 90s, but she still sews like a demon and has a workhorse sewing machine I'd have requested she bring along. This would have saved me all that trouble last week, having to sew by hand what seemed like miles of UV covering back onto our jib. And, I'd not have missed my nap time today.

Today I again hauled down the jib, dragged it aft, lugged it down the companionway, and spent a couple hours sewing by hand (fortunately, none of it in the same places). The sail is 37 years old and in terrific shape (it was long stowed in favor of a genoa), but the thread of the UV cover we paid to have put on two years ago, is apparently not UV-protected.

We lost some time to make miles, but otherwise we're still zipping along, headed in about the right direction. As I type this in the late afternoon, we're about 94 miles above the equator. The GPS is finally showing a "1" as our degrees latitude. Windy wants us to cross before we get to 130 degrees west longitude and I think we're gonna make that happen.

Spirits aboard are renewed with the improved winds, though perishables are disappearing quickly. Since I last did an accounting, we've eaten the last of our Mexican tortillas, tomatoes, oranges, avocados, sweet potatoes, and celery. Carrots are probably the next to be exhausted.

Like others predicted before we left, receiving emails from family and friends has become a highlight of each day. Windy reads each one allowed in what has become an evening ritual. Then, sometimes, she reads them again.

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In our twenties, we traded our boat for a house and our freedom for careers. In our thirties, we lived the American dream. In our forties, we woke and traded our house for a boat and our careers for freedom. And here we are.